a collection of IkeMarth drabbles
by lodestarmarth
Summary: A collection of drabbles I wrote for my roleplay partner, based on our interpretations of Ike and Marth. Some are platonic, but most are romantic. Some are based off of AUs we made up, but most are set in the traditional Smash Bros. universe. Check specific chapter descriptions for info on settings, context, warnings, etc.
1. Chapter 1: Zip me

Notes:

Verse: Super Smash Bros. 4  
Relationship: Romantic (implicit)  
Warnings: None

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Chapter 1: "Zip Me" - A drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around

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"I can't believe you talked me into this."

The remark flew over Marth's head, only scorching the hint of a smile on his face on the way. It wasn't the first time Ike passively expressed his displeasure about finding himself in this situation, and the noble could easily guess it wouldn't be the last. Each piece of clothing he handed over was accepted with less enthusiasm, and put on with less care, until the Altean simply took it upon himself to adjust the mercenary's outfit, going so far as to tuck his shirt in his pants and button up the suit himself. It crossed his mind that Ike might be neglectful on purpose so he would get this special treatment, but they both remained silent about it.

After all, the sellsword _was_ doing him a favor, having accepted to accompany him to this fancy reception. Having to personally dress him up in exchange for having him as moral support throughout the evening seemed like a fair deal, even if it meant feeling Ike's burning gaze on him while he was trying to focus on folding this collar properly. Marth's face was soon heating up, both from the attention and out of impatience. As 'fashion' as they were supposed to be, these outfits were just different enough from the suits the prince was used to to give him trouble with the few finishing touches.

It was a good thing they were - somehow - perfectly tailored to their respective size, or else he highly doubted he could have made him - or rather, _them_ \- look this good. It was impressive, really, how a simple change of clothes could make someone look entirely different. Their usual hairstyles were untouched, by request of the Hands - something about them staying recognizable -, and yet they both appeared as modern, young, successful businessmen in these foreign black tuxes.

It was what little glee Marth could drag out of these garments, he realized as he got a sudden "Oof !- easy," from messing up and tightening Ike's tie knot too much. They were terribly impractical. "Forgive me," the prince sighed, striving not to let his budding frustration take over. Nimble fingers loosened the knot and finally trailed down the necktie as he took a step back, only allowing himself to admire his work for a split second before he turned around to face the room's mirror and focus on his own attire, starting with the godforsaken collar. It had to be buttoned on the back, which made the operation a lot less effective than it could have been, considering he couldn't even see what he was doing.

Maybe Ike understood his annoyed groan as a plea for help, maybe he was just getting impatient too - either way, it didn't take more than a minute for him step forward and take over, leaving Marth with nothing to do but drop his arms back down and stare at his sheepish reflection. "Why are you giving yourself so much trouble ?" the taller swordsman asked, and the noble perceived in his detached tone some sort of concern that wasn't only pertaining to this night, to this event, to this outfit.

It was a valid question, in hindsight. There was no obligation, no restriction, no expectation - all they'd been told was to dress up nicely with the suits they'd be given and be nice to the guests. No bonus points for doing the best impression, no rewards for seeming richer or healthier than others. There was objectively no good reason to fuss so much over technicalities. "I wish to look presentable," he laid out simply, hoping to shrug off the subject.

He was the representative of the 'Heroes of the Emblem' group, his attendance, unlike Ike's, was mandatory - it made sense he would make an effort to project a good image for their sake, right ? And that extended to the mercenary as well, now, seeing as he was to accompany him. It was logic. Nothing more, nothing less. "Your sleeves."

Seeing the two of them in this unusual get-up, however, rendered him unsure, hesitant. It was kind of pointless, wasn't it ? Having a few encounters with some of their 'fans' would already have so little repercussions on their lives here, would what they wear make the slightest difference ? Was it really worth the effort he'd just pulled ? "Marth, your sleeves."

No. There was undeniably some force of habit at works here, it was instinct to him, second nature. When life gives you lemon, make lemonade; when you're thrown towards a fancy event and offered an equally fancy attire, make sure you'll appear at your best. That was really all these outfits were good for, now that the prince took the time to look them over. They made them look good, that was it. They were constricting, stiff, thick. Not overly uncomfortable, but definitely something they would gladly take off a few hours from now. They- " _Marth_."

"Hm ?"

" _Your sleeves_. Button 'em up."

"Oh."

He looked down on his arms to conclude his dressing up with the one section he'd overlook, just in time to miss the smirk that drew itself on Ike's face - just in time to hopefully hide the shade of red that tinted his cheeks for a few seconds. He really ought to give his date more credit - he was more perceptive than he looked. At least as far as Marth was concerned.

Without a second thought, the prince looked up at his companion, deciding he would seek support and confidence from him instead of relying on his usual, solo methods. It wouldn't do to think too much, apparently. "Shall we ?"

Ike answered by silently offering him his arm, which Marth took, and they headed to the door.


	2. Chapter 2: Yahoo me

Chapter 2: " Yahoo Me" - A drabble about our characters celebrating something

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Summary:

celebrating Tabuu's defeat and the upcoming beginning of the Brawl tournament

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Notes:

Verse: Super Smash Bros. Brawl  
Relationship: Platonic  
Warnings: underage drinking I guess (Ike _is_ only seventeen here after all)

* * *

Shouts erupted into the mansion as soon as the first Smasher slammed the big door open, the rest of the crowd quickly following in and spreading out to occupy every breathing space like ants on a giant fruit. Most of them were still cheering, some at least as loudly as they had been on the way there, either thrilled to be back or simply relishing the group's shared victory against Tabuu.

Marth had given way to the most eager ones, although he was admittedly impatient to see how the residence had changed. It already looked much bigger than the last time, an increase in size most likely proportional to that of their number. It hadn't gone unnoticed to veterans that, again, there were significantly more contenders than in the previous edition of the tournament, but apparently the Hands knew how to accommodate them all still, if not even better. And they most certainly anticipated them to be up for festivities, judging by how the lobby was set-up.

Colorful lights were dancing on every wall in sight, the bass of some music in a farther room shaking up the whole floor's structure, plates of food laid out on every flat surface accompanied by countless goblets of champagne and various other liquors. The few dozens of fighters had barely crammed into the building before a majority of them were already rushing to the refreshments or regrouping in small sets here and there to chat about the events and the upcoming competition, which should start soon now that they were all reunited and had brought peace back to this universe.

The Altean prince promptly spotted a corner of the main hall, well out of potential passersby's way, but still within close enough range of the action to get a good view of everything. He wasted no time heading there and started surveying the crowd avidly. Although they had all come together to get through the end of their adventure, there were some faces the swordsman still didn't recognize, and thus he was hopeful he hadn't met every new - or returning - competitor. Although he knew, deep down, he would have seen him by now…

"Looking for someone ?" Marth perked up at the now-somewhat-familiar voice, instantly recognizing his most recent ally. Ike had stepped into the fray when he and Meta Knight had been cornered to a tight spot, quickly earning their trust and respect, something the three of them would end up relying on more than any of them had expected. Even though this camaraderie had had its perks, however, it remained only that to the prince: an alliance. Although some sort of affinity had blossomed between the two swordsmen - something later partly explained by the rumor that their homelands were linked, somehow -, Marth made an effort not to let him in so easily.

Which is why he merely brushed off the other's question, refusing him the truth with a simple "No". He compelled himself to fix his gaze on something, if only to evade any further suspicions. Roy wasn't here. Marth was on his own, this time around. He could only hope nothing had befallen his young comrade…

He leaned forward, grabbing a glass of champagne among the ones set on the plate he'd unintentionally been staring at for the last few seconds, Ike's presence still visible out of the corner of his eye. "Do you not celebrate ?" the teal-haired questioned, more so to be polite than out of curiosity. He felt rather uneasy, standing in silence next to his acquaintance.

"It's not like I have any idea what's going on," Ike shrugged nonchalantly, and the prince turned away to hide a smile. So Ike really was the blunt, direct kind - those few remarks he'd dropped on their journey hadn't only been circumstantial. Marth felt a bit sorry for him. He'd tried telling him and Meta Knight, while they traveled, about the nature of this place, this convergence of worlds, universes. How they were ultimately here only to fight each other mindlessly, even though each and every one of them had earned their place here by accomplishing remarkable deeds. It was a lot to take in, and even harder to fully understand. In truth, Marth still didn't.

But at least, he hadn't been dropped into this place in the middle of a crisis, the previous time. And he hadn't been alone, either; Roy had the same first language as him, and presented many similarities, his noble lineage and sword technique being only two of a few. Ike, on the other hand, had seen chaos before order, and was now seemingly willing to settle for the Altean's poor amity skills. "None of us really do, dare I say."

He would have gladly precised that it wasn't worth thinking over too much, that truthful explanations were most likely beyond their understanding, that this temporary life they were handed would not affect their real ones, anyway. But when he turned to properly look at the mercenary, Marth could instantly see he wasn't looking for further clarifications. Ike didn't need nor want to make things more complicated than they needed to be - he was ready to take the days as they would come. An attitude the monarch admired, but that rendered him even more puzzled as to why Ike wasn't seeking out some better company.

On a generous impulse, the prince raised his glass at the other swordsman, who was quick to grab one himself and mirror the gesture, a crooked grin edging on his face as a characteristic _clink_ resonated between the two. "Cheers," the sellsword said simply before tasting his drink. Marth allowed an easy smile to tug at his own lips, fully aware that the distant music and chatter would keep Ike from hearing him when he admitted, "Enchanted to meet you."


	3. Chapter 3: Wed me

Chapter 3: "Wed Me" - A drabble about our characters under the subject of wedlock

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Summary:

'discussing' marriage (but mostly just a Marth inner dialogue, as usual)

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Notes:

Verse: Super Smash Bros. 4  
Relationship: Romantic (Explicit)  
Warnings: None

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

* * *

"Marriage."

What had been a comfortable silence suddenly became heavy, to the point where Marth momentarily wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

Some semblance of summer had installed itself in this world a few weeks ago, cold weather no longer keeping the Smashers inside. It had been Link's idea, or so he remembered, at least, to start this little campfire just outside the mansion. Nothing extravagant, but it had gathered quite the number of attendees, and before they knew it, blankets and sticks and marshmallows were being passed around, shared about as enthusiastically as the few stories some of the improvised campers told. An evening that turned out to be an efficient reminder of those good, rare nights of traveling where Marth and his league managed to forget about the war and the dead and the misery for the time of a story or a song around a campfire.

The scene changed as night dragged on, however. Instead of being among the first to head back to his chambers, Marth stayed outside for hours, not leaving his spot even after most of the others had gone back inside, even after the campfire was nothing but choked embers, even after the last light sipping from the building behind him had been turned off.

It had taken him some time to actually relax enough for it, but he eventually imitated the one person who was still out here with him, and gave up his sitting stance to lean back and lay down on their shared cheap blanket, with nothing to look at but the starry night sky. The clock had become irrelevant then. He might even have drifted off to sleep for a few minutes at some point, who knew ? Or maybe his thoughts were simply zoning him out to the point where he didn't feel conscious anymore. It was hard to tell, with this never-ending ceiling being the only thing occupying his vision. But it was comfortable, whatever it was.

And then he was wondering whether these were real stars or not, whether they were actual faraway galaxies he had the privilege to see or merely projections. Were those the same stars garnishing his sky back home ? He used to love astrology when he was… 8 ? Or was that in his ninth year's course ? Either way, he knew he should have been able to recognize one or two constellations… Gods, the last time he'd thought so much of home while being here was when-

"It is only a matter of time before I am pressured into marriage," he precised, completing the one sentence he'd never finished, that one evening he and Ike had reunited before this instance of the tournament began*. "This is what I meant to say, the other day," he added in precision, though his choice of words left a funny taste in his mouth. _A lifetime ago_ , it felt.

He knew the mercenary hadn't been sleeping, he knew he'd been following his own obscure train of thoughts, all this time. Still, he shifted just enough so Marth knew, without looking, that he had his full attention. "The people need to know the kingdom is secure. A queen for the king, so the land may have an heir…" he recited calmly, his mind racing ahead to try and choose his next words wisely.

The thing was, the first time he'd almost mentioned this, that one night when he welcomed Ike back to the competition, had merely been to follow up with a line of confessions, interrupted with a pinch of embarrassment and a solid resolution to avoid the topic. As little as he wanted to face that one obligation, for as long as he could remember he'd promised himself he would never complain about the few sacrifices he had to make for being born into royalty. And he held himself to that, for most of his life. Until now.

Because now, there was an actual person he could see himself wedding - and this person was as painfully out of reach as he was physically close to him in this very moment, ironically. And it hurt, to think that not only would he not always have access to this reassuring proximity, but to know, without a doubt, that the moment it'd be stripped from him, he would have to grant this intimacy to someone else… He was angry, and sad, and he wanted someone or something to acknowledge him, even if deep down he knew it was selfish, he wanted to know that he was right to feel this way.

But words caught in his throat, force of habits kicking in, don't expose your problems, especially if they're personal, especially if they're psychological. Trust is a bait, more likely to make you break and bleed from the inside than to taste like a sweet treat. He exhaled a sigh through his nose, hoping it would cover up a bit of his conflicted melancholy.

"You don't sound very pleased," Ike said after a moment, most likely once he understood Marth had given up on following up with his original point. His tone was neutral, leaving the Altean to guess what he thought of it all, considering his eyes were still riveted on the sky and thus he had no expression to read. If Ike cared for him even only half of what Marth cared for him, he wouldn't exactly appreciate this reminder- yet he didn't sound as frustrated as the prince felt. It was almost like he tried to be detached on purpose to encourage his noble companion to speak his mind. And so he did;

"I would much rather marry you." Confession hung in the air for many unbearable seconds. There was no movement next to him whatsoever - it felt like Ike was holding his breath altogether. And then, a bit quieter;

"Is that a proposal ?"

"Ha." _I wish. I wish it could be. I would be on my knees in a heartbeat if there were any chances of you coming home with me._

But again, he kept silence on his immediate thoughts, leaving only half of a bitter, humorless laugh for an answer as something seemed to shatter to the very core of his soul. He could have- he wanted to play along. He wanted to say yes, and they could pretend for a moment that the Hands would let them travel to the other's world, that marriage between two men wasn't frowned upon whatsoever, that the people wouldn't care, that some benevolent maiden would volunteer to be a surrogate mother, that somehow they'd find a way to match their practically opposite lifestyles and share a life beyond this short-term, temporary relationship… It wouldn't make it more real, but it might make it less painful, at least for an instant.

He would never know, though, because he panicked at the idea of Ike's answer being 'No', and never asked.

* * *

Notes:

*a reference to the very first thread I had with my partner, involving Ike and Marth reuniting for the fourth Smash tournament, in which, while telling each other about what has happened to them since the previous one, Marth almost reveals that he expects his people to pressure him into marriage soon, but stops himself just in time.


	4. Chapter 4: Value me

Chapter 4: "Value Me" - A drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

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Summary:

last night at the mansion before they get separated again, possibly forever

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Notes:

Verse: Super Smash Bros. 4  
Relationship: Romantic (explicit)  
Warnings: none

* * *

None spoke of it, but they all knew it.

It was obvious, even. In the way they were all so dead set on not mentioning it. There was a profusion of side glances, all of them wondering if the others could feel it, too. Everyone put their heart and soul in the day's battles, and everyone came out satisfied regardless of the results. No one mentioned anything about having a rematch or trying again tomorrow, though. Somehow, they all made an effort to gather in a big group for dinner, without exception - something that was about as common as the planets aligning. And they ate and talked, rich food and cheery voices filling the hall, all reminiscing of stories that had happened recently in this place, related to the competition or not. Yet none of them mentioned future plans. Smiles and friendly words, yet nostalgia was already heavy in the air.

For they could all feel that by the morrow, they would all be back home.

It was like an elephant in the room everyone refused to acknowledge. Some of them would be glad to get back to their lives, while some others wouldn't take it so easily. Some of them missed their loved ones, while others had established ties to the Mansion itself. For some, it wouldn't be much of a change of environment, while others would get back to a whole different kind of life. Some were counting on the fact that they would reunite someday, and some knew the chances were slim.

Even so, they all shared the same attitude; a bit more cheery than usual, a bit nicer, a bit more encouraging, a bit more open. A bit like everyone wanted to keep a good memory of everyone, a bit like everyone wanted to make one last good impression. When the lights got dimmer, it was with a certain reluctance, a certain melancholy, that the fighters bid each other goodnight. No one ever pronounced 'See you tomorrow'.

Marth had to admit, Ike put up a good fight. Despite his sleep-inducing ministrations, even the mercenary lasted longer that night than usual. It was impressive, considering how dedicated he'd been to the few battles that had filled his schedule today. However, the prince had been in somewhat of a hurry to put him to sleep the moment they'd found themselves alone, out of fear Ike would bring up the inevitable. Marth knew he wouldn't be able to discuss it, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself in check, his throat already tightening painfully each time he merely looked in Ike's direction.

And thus a heated, wordless embrace faded into the faint whisper of sweet nothings and empty promises, which eventually turned into a familiar snoring, and something in the Altean's chest seemed to constrict agonizingly as the thoughts screamed, _this is it._ Now he could only wait for the Sandman to claim him as well. He was tired, and more comfortable than he knew he would ever be again, and still, something was clawing at his heart and keeping him from drifting off, something other than sorrow and apprehension, something more akin to… regret ? What was there even to regret ? If there was one thing he had no regrets for, this was it, why on Earth-

 _…oh._

"Thank you," he murmured into thin air, and he pushed himself to shift and look over at Ike. He took in the swordsman's chest heaving up and down, the absence of twitching behind his eyelids - a dreamless sleep -, the sheer peacefulness of his expression, Marth wanted to memorize it one last time, imprint the image once and for all in his memory. "Thank you for the honor of being mine," he continued, an easy smile flashing across his face as he realized he lacked better words. They had never really bothered putting a word on what their relationship had become other than _you are mine and I am yours_ , and somehow Marth was perfectly content with that. Even he who swore by precise titles and definitions never cared for looking more into this.

"It is thanks to you that I am a man with no regrets." From then on, he would know the best thing to ever happen to him was behind him. He wouldn't wait nor hope for it any longer, but rather cherish every single memory until his older age would get the best of them. He was grateful for them, and knew that what precious time they'd spent here would always be worth whatever sacrifice laid ahead, whatever unpleasantness was waiting for him. "How lucky am I," he noted softly, eyes lowering to stare a his thumb rubbing the back of the sellsword's hand.

"You made my life," he confessed, voice still below a mere whisper. His chest still ached, but somehow his speech was steady. "…but I am only passing through yours. I know there is much more awaiting you, and I want you to find everything you are looking for." It was a weak blessing, yet all he could seem to offer. From what he gathered, Ike wasn't sure of what he was seeking himself, so Marth could only wish him some peace of mind, some sort of finally coming to terms with his existence. He deserved it.

"Thank you for giving me forever within a number of days," he pursued, each second he grew closer to falling asleep rushing him with another wave of gratefulness. His time was running out. "For giving me something to hold dear, that no one may ever take from me." There it was, the subtle tremor shaking up his words. He was feeling his limbs giving out, his body melting into the mattress and against Ike, he was gonna crash, any second-

"I… I understand now," he tried, words linked by short huffs of exhaustion, and he winced, working on pulling his thoughts together just so he could get those few sentences out. "We have no choice in whether we get hurt or not in this world - or the next." He suppressed a yawn, unable to even muster up considerate thoughts for every painful memory that usually plagued his mind. But he knew they were there, and he knew there were still more to come. "But we do have a say in what hurts us." He refrained a sigh this time, when it dawned on him just how hard it would be to not have this reassuring presence in the morning. Or ever. But oh, how it had been worth it. "I like my choices," he admitted, and finally let himself shift in a slightly more relaxed position, ready to let sleep take him over - take him away.

Part of him wished he could have told this straight-on, but he knew deep down he wouldn't have been able to be any kind of coherent with this if Ike's gaze had been fixed on him like he could guess it would have been had he engaged in this kind of speech while they were both awake. Besides, something told him these words would make their way to him somehow, in his dreams or as distant blurry memories, should he ever need them. Marth was satisfied with this closure - still sorry he never told Ike any of it directly, but this was most likely the next best thing. "I love you," he promised before finally passing out.


	5. Chapter 5: Unbind me

Chapter 5: "Unbind Me" - A drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines.

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Summary:

Marth visits Ike's world, basic bandits attack a nearby village, trouble ensues

* * *

Notes:

Verse: Super Smash Bros. 4 / Radiant Dawn (it takes place in Tellius, but Marth and his relationship with Ike happened through the usual Smash world)  
Relationship: Romantic (implicit)  
Warnings: implicit murdering/incapacitating enemies, blaze, minor & major injuries in general

* * *

He had been warned. He should have listened.

Being given some time off was always nice, whether it simply meant not having to fight any match for a couple of days, or being allowed so far as to go home during said break. Receiving the permission to visit someone else's could seem even higher a reward to some of them; the Hands weren't nearly as inclined to let this happen. And for a good reason, too. They had no invincibility outside of the Smash world; what hurt them couldn't be healed so easily between two fights, it could leave genuine scars. And they could actually get killed.

Of course, the perspective of death wasn't new for most of them - they had all braved it at one point or another to get here, even, and some more often than others. They all knew what they were up against when returning home, they were all aware of whatever danger still remained there. It was when visiting another, unfamiliar place that it could get tricky, and though visitors usually stuck with their hosts, incidents were never completely out of the question. None of that had ever happened to any of the fighters, but the masterminds behind the Smash operations were still wary.

Of course, none of that really weighed on Marth's mind when he was granted to travel to Ike's world with him. He knew geography aside, there wasn't much there he wasn't already familiar with - at least nothing the mercenary hadn't warned him about, and anyway, neither of them were planning on going anywhere without the other. And so the Hand's warning had been dismissed, silently brushed off to the back of his mind like any pointless advice. And when a small group of bandits attacked the village neighboring where they were residing for his visit on a fresh evening, prudence didn't even pop up in his mind before he enthusiastically joined the fray.

There was something incredibly satisfying about fighting off a bunch of brutes who were, without a doubt, no good to humanity. The prince hadn't been in an actual fight for quite a long time now; even prior to his attending the tournament, Archanea had been at peace for months. Not only that, but he could also only recall battling against armies, which wasn't always the most rewarding to claim a victory from. Marth had grown used to shrugging it off and blaming the enemy for picking the wrong side, but his own ranks, containing a few former adversaries, were proof that not every soldier fought for what they believed in. Some simply had no choice, and that possibility usually found its way into his head whenever he pushed his blade through someone's flesh.

This, on the other hand - this was mindless fighting. Not particularly challenging, but the lack of any kind of doubt regarding the Ruffians' morals was enough to draw some entertainment out of taking them down. The village was a ghost town by now, all of its inhabitant having escaped to the outskirts as soon as the first thief had reached a building and ruckus had ensued. Nothing to worry about other than putting all of these savages out of commission…

He'd been separated from Ike a few minutes ago, when each of them chased off after a half of the group that had separated at the splitting of a street. Marth's sword was soaking red from the wound he'd inflicted on the half dozen of incapacitated barbarians scattered around the narrow stone road, and he finally deemed safe to lower it. There was no movement left on this side of the town. He was gonna head back and seek Ike out, as he could hear the clashing of steel still in the distance, but the characteristic sound of glass shattering caught his ear right as he passed what seemed to be an apothecary shop.

A couple of furtive strides later and he had the door slammed open to reveal one more outlaw stealthily throwing every potion he could get his hands on in a bag. There were a few shattered containers sprinkled at his feet, but otherwise he had rather effectively emptied the shelves and counter, and was now making a bee line for the window furthest from Marth, which was across the room. The swordsman didn't wait for the timing to be right, slashing forward immediately when he registered the bandit's movement, catching his thigh vertically just deep enough to make him trip and fall.

And then, it happened in a split second.

Marth recovered his balance, straightening up to turn and finish the job, the other man grounded and his hands full with his loot. How ironic, was the Altean's last thought before it happened, that his prize for raiding this place would be the reason he couldn't defend himself in the end. And suddenly, he was throwing the bag in Marth's direction, who stepped aside just in time to dodge it. Instead, it hit one of the pillars, and something, an illicit substance or merely the mix of chemicals as every bottle shattered in unison, detonated.

The sound of cracking wood followed, and more loud crashing, and then _pain -_ blinding, excruciating pain that tore a strangled cry from his throat. Dust saturated the air, filling his nose, halting his breathing, blinding his sight, ears still ringing from the noise of the explosion, giving nothing for his senses to hold onto besides the ache until it settled. Only then did he blink his vision into focus, not even registering the stray tears of pain beading at the corner of his eyes, for he was too absorbed in what was left before him; part of the roof had crashed down on them, though he was the lesser victim. Only his leg was stuck under the rubble, and though it was clearly broken if the feeling he got from it was any indication, the other guy had been downright crushed under the weight of all this stone and wood.

Marth inhaled a sharp breath, desperately urging his mind to clear out all the attention it was giving to how much it hurt, and focus his energy on reaching out to the debris and lift them off his broken limb. His heart doubled its pace when he tried to push off a single log and it didn't even budge. He pressed himself to breathe in again and keep calm, only to cough it out right away. Why was there still so much dust ?

Because it wasn't dust, he realized when a piece of ember fell a couple of inches next to him. It was smoke.

Strange, oddly-colored flames licked the structure where the pillar had given out, and had slowly climbed up to what remained of the roof, eating at every piece of wood that sustained it together. Any second now, the rest of it would come crashing down on him.

That's when adrenaline - not to say straight-up panic - kicked in, and he leaned forward, anguish leading him to claw relentlessly at the rubble, trying to get it off of him, to break free, eyes glancing up at the creaking ceiling every few seconds in anticipation, he was gonna die here, trapped like a rat, how stupid-

His heart leaped at the sound of Ike's voice calling his name. It was like a faint whisper drowned out by everything that screamed death in here, the chemical fire, the smoke, the dust, the ruins, the pain - and again, Marth forced himself to take a breath in- "Ike !" he tried shouting, but the mere name sent him into a coughing fit, the air now barely breathable. Whether it was his plea or his coughing, Ike heard him, for his footsteps were now drawing closer to the blazing building. And then he was calling out the prince's name again, this time so much closer it was almost relieving.

"I… I'm stuck," he threw in the air, shame weighting him down as painfully as the wreckage laying on him. "My leg…"

"I'm coming," he heard the mercenary answer almost right away, quickly followed by the sound of someone trying to force their way through a damaged door. What if his entering here set off another crash ? Marth was tempted to warn him, tell him to turn back before he also got wounded in this mess, but another piece of ash fell onto him, and he struggled helplessly again, trying to free himself from there, only to have more pain shoot from his shattered bones and to waste precious oxygen, his vision blurring out from the ache and the effort, he was going to straight up black out-

"Ike," he called again, voice strangled with dread, and he admitted, "I'm scared."

There was a split second of pause. "I'm coming," the other swordsman repeated, this time with something indecipherable in his tone, and after two or three additional bangs the door flew open. Alarming cracking ensued, but nothing more. Not yet, at least.

There was so much smoke, Marth feared Ike wouldn't even find him in time - but he was there within a second, half of his face hidden in the collar of his shirt to keep himself from choking, and before the prince could process much, he had lifted off the pieces of wreckage that were stranding him and hoisted him up on his good leg. Even when leaning onto him for support, Marth couldn't seem to muster up the energy to move in any way, his brain barely functioning enough to keep him alive.

But he did register the relief that filled his lungs like the pure air when he took a breath in upon getting dragged out of that godforsaken shop, and he liked to believe he thanked Ike out loud before he passed out in his arms.


End file.
